


Unconventional

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Unconventional Relationship, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Sherlock have never had a conventional relationship. Eventually that also encompasses Greg Lestrade. And then John Watson enters their lives</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional

Mycroft and Sherlock had never had a conventional relationship. Few people were their intellectual equals, let alone anything else. So perhaps it was only natural that as they grew older, they fell into bed together. It had started off as simple comfort for Sherlock after nightmares, changed to experimenting, and these days, though, it was less common, Mycroft knew he was the only one that could truly give Sherlock the intimacy he needed.

It was an arrangement that worked well for both of them for a long time. Until unexpected external forces came into play.

**

It was late when Sherlock crawled into Mycroft's bed. "I won't take you when you're high." Mycroft reminded him as he rolled onto his back and reached for his brother. 

"You're the second person to tell me that today." Grumbled Sherlock, curling up on his chest. 

"Oh? Who was the first?" Mycroft was aware of his brother’s activities in quite a few ways.

“This police inspector. Lestrade. I tried to tell him he was chasing the wrong suspect on a case. He told me I can’t help him unless I’m sober. Fool.”

“I’ll have a talk with him,” said Mycroft, stroking Sherlock’s hair. “Sleep, brother mine.” He knew the signs that Sherlock was coming down. 

He grumbled a bit against Mycroft’s soft pyjamas, but he drifted off fairly quickly, while Mycroft worked things out in his head, not wanting to reach for his mobile and wake his brother.

**

Late the next afternoon a rather grumpy Greg Lestrade was being shown in to speak with Mycroft. “I have a mobile and kidnapping a police officer is a high offense,” he grumbled.

“I assure you, my clearance is far higher than yours, and I thought we should have this conversation face to face. You were working with Sherlock Holmes today, were you not?” Mycroft looked him over, took in the troubles with his wife at a glance. He’d recently moved out on his own. Good. Those dark brown eyes had their own intelligence and weariness that spoke of years on the force.

“I am, yeah. Told him if he stays sober he can help. What is it to you?” Lestrade looked him over. “Related, are you?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Not everyone worked that out, given how different they looked.

“Yes, we are. Sherlock is my younger brother. If he continues to remain sober, will you continue to accept his help?”

“I think so, yeah,” said Lestrade, standing straight, letting Mycroft know by his body language that he would not be intimidated. Mycroft’s mind traitorously flashed to the idea of Greg in bed, those strong hands holding him down… He quickly reigned in his mind. Good Lord, he was not an animal.

“Very good,” said Mycroft, “what sum would you like for the effort?”

“I don’t take bribes,” growled Lestrade, clearly affronted.

“Of course not. You would accept his help either way. But clearly things have been a bit difficult since you and your wife separated.”

Lestrade’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you as well, Mister Holmes.”

A playful smile danced across Mycroft’s lips. “You may try to do so. Have a good evening Inspector. My number is in your mobile should you require me.”

Lestrade managed not to glance on his phone, instead he turned on his heel and walked away. Mycroft let himself enjoy the view as he did so.

**

“You want to sleep with Lestrade,” said Sherlock a few weeks later, while flat on his back underneath Mycroft, legs wrapped around his waist. He never did have the best sense of timing.

“Perhaps,” said Mycroft, not pausing in his thrusts. “But he does fancy you far more than me.”

Sherlock snorted. “He fancies us both. Which is why we should invite him in.”

“And how well do you think he will take that, Sherlock? We are brothers, after all.” Mycroft would be lying if he said he hadn’t already considered the possibility. And dismissed it.

“He’s open minded,” said Sherlock, squeezing around him in an effort to make him come faster.

“No, Sherlock. We simply cannot risk it.” Mycroft never changed his pace.

“You mean _you_ can’t risk it. I barely have a reputation worth speaking about.”

“Either way, Sherlock, we can’t afford to take the chance.” Mycroft shifted his hips and, despite himself, Sherlock came with a groan. Mycroft smiled and chased his own orgasm.

**

Mycroft shouldn’t have counted Sherlock out. He knew Sherlock was in his flat when he opened the front door, what he hadn’t expected was his little brother riding the inspector’s lap in his favorite chair, facing the door.

Closing his mouth and the door. Mycroft stood in place as Lestrade’s eyes opened and widened, realizing they’d been caught. Sherlock was smirking. “Good evening, brother. You might want to check your security.”

Indeed,” said Mycroft, taking off his coat. Lestrade looked torn between dying of embarrassment, shoving Sherlock off him and making his escape, and just finishing what they were in the middle of.

“There’s no need to stop, Inspector,” said Sherlock, leaning back against him. “It’s nothing Mycroft hasn’t seen before.” He ground down against the older man, making him groan.

Mycroft rolled up his sleeves. “Hold his hips,” he told Lestrade. “He likes to be held in place.”

Lestrade blinked, then did as he was told, Sherlock moaning with pleasure as Greg drove into him. Mycroft walked over, hesitated only a moment, then went to his knees in front of the pair, swallowing Sherlock’s cock in one go.

Sherlock groaned and tried to rock up against him, still held in place. Lestrade thrust up into him, and Mycroft could tell he was sucking a mark into the younger man’s shoulder. Sherlock writhed between them, one hand landing in Mycroft’s hair, the other reaching back for Greg.

It didn’t take long at all for Sherlock to come, moaning lewdly as Mycroft swallowed every last drop. Lestrade swore and followed him over. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Mycroft knelt back and dabbed at his lips, looking up at the pair of them. “Gorgeous.”

“What about you?” asked Lestrade, glancing down at the tent in Mycroft’s trousers.

“I am content,” said Mycroft, rising to his feet with surprising grace. 

Sherlock and Lestrade shared a look and Mycroft found their hands grabbing his trousers and sending him tumbling onto the sofa. Sherlock kissed him as Greg got his trousers open, the Inspector’s mouth wrapping around his cock. Mycroft moaned and bucked up against him. Sherlock kissed down his jaw to his ear. “I told you he’d be okay with it.”

Mycroft was literally in no position to argue.

Lestrade turned out to have a fairly talented tongue, spurred on by directions from Sherlock. In no time at all, Mycroft was coming, almost silently, grasping onto the two of them. Lestrade sat back and reached to wipe his mouth. Instead Sherlock lunged for him and kissed him, swiping his tongue into his mouth to chase the taste. Mycroft chuckled and watched Lestrade hold him on his lap.

“He does have a bit more energy,” Mycroft said, tucking himself away.

“Between the two of you I am quite satisfied,” said Sherlock, breaking the kiss to lean back against Mycroft’s chest.

Lestrade shook his head. “So, I take it this is fairly typical for you two?”

“More or less. Sherlock had believed you’d be interested in this arrangement. Obviously I must have your absolute secrecy.” Mycroft met Lestrade’s eyes.

Lestrade leaned in and kissed one, then the other. “I can do that.”

The three of them cuddled on the couch for only a few minutes before Sherlock’s stomach growled. Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I did tell you you need to eat more often.”

“It’s only transport,” said Sherlock, clearly not inclined to move at all from between the other two.

“Gregory, would you care to join me in making super?” asked Mycroft.

“You can call me Greg, and that’s fine. Least I can do, I suppose.”

They left Sherlock pouting on the couch and went into the kitchen. Mycroft pointed out where some things were and they soon had a hearty meal going.

“It doesn’t bother me that you two sleep together,” said Greg, getting right to the point. Another item in the man’s favor.

“It’s not something we generally discuss with outsiders, for obvious reasons. However, he did wish to get caught. I had told him not to bring you into this, but he was insistent, clearly.”

“Well, he’s gorgeous and you’re both consenting adults. I’ve seen weirder things in my day,” Greg said with a shrug.

Mycroft felt a pang at the compliment paid to Sherlock. Then again he should be used to it by now. Sherlock was the pretty one, he was the smart one. “So long as you can keep the arrangement quiet, and I believe you can, you’re more than welcome to join us. He’s been staying sober, I’ve noticed.”

“He’s helping out on my cases,” said Greg, “and staying sober as we agreed. I’m sure he’ll slip up sooner rather than later, but I’m willing to give him a chance.”

“And I am willing to give you a chance,” said Mycroft, watching the confident way he moved around the unfamiliar kitchen.

Greg gave him a grin. “I appreciate it. Don’t worry, I won’t let you two down.”

They quickly settled into a routine. Greg didn’t come over every night, of course, but he came over fairly often. It seemed that it was always the three of them, or, Mycroft occasionally would watch as Greg and Sherlock would enjoy one another, but he was careful to put aside any slight feelings of jealousy. After all, Sherlock was the one who worked with him. It was nice enough to have Gregory around as they did, no need to make things awkward.

So he was surprised they day he came into his flat (by now Greg had a key) and found the Inspector in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. “Sherlock is out of the country, didn’t we tell you that?” asked Mycroft, certain that he had.

“I know. I haven’t got to spend much time with just you Mycroft, thought tonight would be good. And before you fret about it, Sherlock knows and doesn’t mind.”

“I see,” said Mycroft, taking off his coat and glancing at his mobile.

_Enjoy yourself_ \- SH

Mycroft couldn’t help but smile. “Very well,” he said, coming into the kitchen. He glanced at what was cooking and brought out a bottle of wine to match. Greg plated their dinner and carried it into the dining room. 

It was all delightfully domestic. Mycroft allowed himself to drink perhaps a bit more wine than he usually did. Greg was charming and he enjoyed being the center of that warm gaze. Greg’s hand rest on his thigh under the table as they finished and Mycroft leaned in to kiss him.

“I know what I want for dessert,” said Greg, leaning closer.

“To work on improving your pickup lines?” quipped Mycroft.

In answer, Greg, cupped his cheek and drew him into a soft kiss, driving every other thought out of his brain. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Mycroft Holmes,” he promised, voice dark and thick with desire.

Greg took Mycroft’s hand and led him into his own bedroom. Normally, with Sherlock here, everything was a bit frenetic and hurried. Sherlock lacked patience on the best of days, even more so when he was eager to get someone’s cock up his arse. But Greg carefully undid the buttons, mindful of the fabric, kissing skin as it was exposed. Mycroft found his breath stolen and felt naked long before his clothing was removed.

“You’re beautiful too,” said Greg quietly, laying him down in the large bed. “I hope you know that.”

Mycroft blushed. “Red hair and freckles, not so much.”

“Delightful, and every freckle begging to be kissed.” Greg’s hot mouth circled a nipple, drawing a low moan from Mycroft.

Greg worshiped his body, it was the only word for it. Examining every inch with infinite patience. His mouth, his hands, his tongue. Mycroft was as hard as he’d ever been by the time he finally turned his attention to Mycroft’s aching cock.

Carefully, he leaned down and kissed just the head, fingers stroking Mycroft’s perineum before dipping lower. Moaning, Mycroft spread himself wide for Greg, watching him in the fading evening light. Greg smiled at him and quickly slicked his fingers, pressing two inside. “Relax for me,” he muttered.

And Mycroft did, surrendering to Greg’s steady hand, letting himself melt under that heated gaze, for once allowing himself to think only of his own pleasure. A smile bloomed on Greg’s face that made Mycroft’s stomach flop and for the first time in his life Mycroft realized he was most likely falling for someone. It was dizzying and terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Greg leaned in and kissed him gently, taking his time to open him. Even as Mycroft tried to sort his feelings he also knew he had no problems sharing Gregory with Sherlock. They’d always shared almost everything and while Sherlock could certainly be selfish, the very fact that he was giving his blessing to this showed that he understood his brother’s needs.

Mycroft kissed Greg back, running his hands up his lover’s back. Greg nipped his lower lip and shifted. “I’m going to take you now,” he murmured.

“Please,” whispered Mycroft, desperation in his voice, cock leaking heavy and neglected between them.

Greg slicked himself quickly and pressed into Mycroft, caging his arms around his head as he kissed him again. Mycroft wrapped his legs around Greg’s waist, encouraging him, loving the stretch and the slight burn.

“Wonderful,” whispered Greg, kissing him as he took him slowly, dropping a hand to stroke Mycroft’s cock. Mycroft rocked up against him, getting lost in the sensations, glad for Greg’s hand in his hair, grounding him.

Greg kissed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, kissing wherever he could reach. Mycroft could only cling to him, trusting, pleasure washing over him. Greg shifted his hips, striking Mycroft’s prostate and he was undone, coming with a shout, clinging desperately to Greg like a drowning man to a life preserver.

“I have you,” whispered Greg in his ear, giving a few more thrusts and following him over, still holding him tightly, breath coming in short harsh pants against Mycroft’s skin.

Mycroft felt the stickiness of his own come between them, but for once he didn’t care, drifting off to sleep in Greg’s arms.

**

Sherlock a knowing smile when he saw Mycroft at home few days later. “You seem to be in a better mood.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes, I did enjoy myself. I understand you solved another case.”

Sherlock waved his hand. “Elementary.” He moved closer to Mycroft’s space. “I want to know what he did to you,” he whispered, hand on Mycroft’s hip.

“Simple, brother mine, he treated me like I mattered, like I was the most important thing in the world to him.” Mycroft met his eyes.

“Boring,” Sherlock scoffed. “You would fall for that. Sentiment.”

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock by the waist and spun him, pinning him to the couch. “Don’t get jealous, or this will never work.”

“Why would I be jealous?” asked Sherlock, dilated eyes betraying his lust.

Leaning in, Mycroft kissed him, biting his lip, knowing just what Sherlock wanted.

“Shall I call Gregory? Have him over to watch?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Just us.”

Mycroft nodded and efficiently stripped Sherlock, in a moment having him naked on his knees, sucking Mycroft’s cock. Mycroft’s hand rested in those glorious curls. He knew when Sherlock liked to be pushed and when he liked to be coddled, and right now he needed the assurance that he was still the center of Mycroft’s world. Nothing could possibly change that.

** 

For the next year and a half, things settled between the three of them. Sometimes Mycroft and Greg would have sex on their own, sometimes Greg and Sherlock would have sex with Mycroft watching, but Sherlock always seemed to want Mycroft present, though he didn’t demand things the other way. And sometimes the three of them would all participate, usually with Sherlock in the center of attention. Sherlock stayed sober too, continuing to work with Greg. Overall, Mycroft was quite pleased and comfortable.

And then one day John Watson came into the arrangement

Mycroft tried to warn John off, but it was quickly obvious that Sherlock and John were inseparable. He couldn’t help but notice the amount of time the pair spent together, but he also made no move to stop it; after all, if Sherlock was happy, that was what was important. Even if Sherlock stopped coming around quite so often.

If Greg noticed the changes, he didn’t speak about it. Mycroft continued to sleep with him on occasion. One afternoon though, much like he had with Greg, Sherlock took things in his own hand.

In this case, it was Mycroft and Greg that were caught red handed. Mycroft was on his knees, sucking Greg’s cock, when suddenly his front door opened. He pulled back, but not before John Watson stood rooted in place, staring at him.

“Come, John,” said Sherlock nudging him into the house and closing the door behind them.

“Sherlock they’re _busy_ ,” he hissed.

“Obviously. And that’s why we’re here.” Sherlock walked right up to Greg and Mycroft and kissed one, then the other.

John’s jaw dropped just a little bit further. Feeling a bit wicked, Mycroft pulled Sherlock back in for another snog, hearing Greg curse behind them.

“Would you care to join us, Doctor Watson?” asked Mycroft when he let Sherlock go.

John looked between them. “Greg?”

Greg shrugged. “It works for me. We share.” He got up and walked to John, soft smile on his face as he tilted John’s chin and kissed him. John was unresisting.

“So, this is what you three get up to on weekends?” he asked as Greg pulled away.

“Weekends, evenings, varying times,” said Mycroft. “Care to join us?”

“Bloody hell,” muttered John. “I’d have to be an idiot not to.”

“Good,” said Sherlock, going to him and leaning in to kiss him. John took control, flipping them around and pressing Sherlock to the door as he snogged him.

“Bedroom,” said Mycroft, watching the way the good Doctor manhandled his brother.

John only reluctantly pulled away. He turned and saw the look on Mycroft’s face. Smirking, he stalked to Mycroft, grabbed his tie, and yanked him down for a rough kiss. Mycroft moaned softly, gasping audibly as John let him go.

“Bedroom’s this way, yeah?” said John, heading down the hall. Mycroft and Sherlock shared a look while Greg chuckled and followed.

Reaching the bedroom, everything was a blur of undressing, of hands on buttons and skin, teeth and lips. Sherlock and Mycroft both found themselves on their backs with Greg and John looming over them. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, then turned and kissed Sherlock, caressing his hip with one hand, the other in Sherlock’s hair. For his part, Sherlock fondled his cock, nipping at his lower lip. They both knew the effect they were having on Greg and John.

Hands caressed Mycroft’s thighs. John’s he was fairly certain. It occurred to him that quite possibly John and Sherlock had already slept together. Which explained at least some of absences. But Sherlock also wanted to share with Greg and Mycroft, which was why he was here.

“Stop thinking so much,” said John in Mycroft’s ear. “You’re as bad as he is for that,” he nipped the lobe, expert fingers stroking his entrance. They went away for a moment, only to return slick with lube.

Well, that confirmed that. Sherlock broke the kiss to moan loudly, Greg already lining up and pressing into him from behind. Mycroft watched Sherlock’s face, loving the microexpressions of pleasure he could never control.

John rolled Mycroft onto his side and slid behind him as well. Mycroft reached out to hold Sherlock’s hands in his own as John pressed into him, thick and wide. Sherlock nibbled Mycroft’s throat and then kissed John over his shoulder.

Mycroft reached out and took Sherlock’s cock in hand. Sherlock moaned against his skin, batting Mycroft’s hand away and wrapping his large hand around both their cocks as Greg and John drove them against one another.

Relaxing, Mycroft cupped Sherlock’s cheek and kissed him sweetly. John swore behind him and moved a little faster, a little harder. Sherlock smiled against Mycroft’s lips and twisted his wrist, making Mycroft moan. Greg shifted his hips and suddenly Sherlock was coming, crying out, head rocking back. Mycroft sucked a mark into his collarbone as he came himself, followed swiftly by John and then Greg.

The four of them lay panting together, sweaty, sticky. Greg propped himself up on one elbow and looked at John. “Welcome to the family,” he said with wide grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I finally wrote Holmescest. I don't know why it's hard for me to write lately, but I appreciate your patience and thank you for reading. As always, you can find me on tumblr at [merindab.tumblr.com](http://merindab.tumblr.com).


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